


Butler and Boy

by BerryChwan



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Butlers, Dedication, Family, M/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6748615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerryChwan/pseuds/BerryChwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a horrific incident, a young boy makes two important promises to the greatest man in his life. <br/>Shortfic dedicated to PoohBear</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butler and Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written a batman fanfic BUT someone special to me really wanted a short piece of their birthday. So here it is.  
> Hope they and everyone else enjoys it.  
> I need to share it here and probably Tumblr so they see it.

It was a silent night, so quiet that it almost deceived you into thinking that it was utopic.

In that hushed night, a young boy's fate was being written. It was written by a single gunshot. The sound pierced the night, like a needle breaking skin to draw blood. But it was one simple gunshot so the residents didn't bat an eye. The thief continued to rob, the husband continued to pay the prostitute and the cop calmly finished his dinner.

This was Gotham after all. In Gotham, it took more than a single gunshot to draw attention. This was a city that was just as cruel to its criminals as it was to its citizens. It was the truest of all jungles.

This night that held no special significance for most of Gotham was probably its most important night. The beginning of something. The animals remained hushed drawing a collective breath waiting for the inevitable second gunshot. Because you see, in Gotham, it was never just one simple gunshot, it was never just one death, when death rode through Gotham, and it took its fair share. And sure enough, the second gunshot came. It stabbed the night, accompanied by a wail. Then, finally, the city paid attention.

But by the time the residents took notice, it was too late, blood was spilled. It weaved through the ground ignoring the desperate wails of a young boy. And in that alley, two entities were created. These entities had existed for millennia but in that short minute, a name was given to them, hero and villain. And that was when things changed. That was the moment the city knew it had made a mistake.

\----------------

The funeral was uneventful. No one howled and no one dared to throw themselves on the coffins that held the bodies of Martha and Thomas Wayne. It wasn't that kind of funeral. This was the dignified kind, the kind that judged the length of your sob, the weight of your tears and brand of your outfit. Everyone was on guard and the priest mumbled words he didn't believe.

The young boy tried to pretend he was in church, surrounded by strangers that he was supposed to know, but didn't. He recognized a few faces, but he couldn't tell if it was because they were famous or because they gave a shit about his parents. His parents had been wealthy, the wealthiest people in the city, perhaps even the country, so like all rich people, Martha and Thomas' death attracted desperate leeches.

The young boy felt like he was having an out of body experience. Nothing felt real except for light rain that was beginning to fall. The young boy wanted to believe that the sky was crying for him, but he had learned the water cycle in school. He tried to remember, vapor and precipitation?

The rain continued to fall lazily barely paying attention to where it was landing. The guests shuffled uncomfortably, some of their clothes were borrowed. But the priest continued on robotically, he was dealing with his own inner demons and had no time to care about the problems of the rich.

The young boy looked down at his shoes, they were getting wet and he didn't like that. He turned to his butler and motioned him downwards. The butler bent down to get closer to him.

"I want to go home," the young boy whispered flatly. The butler sighed and his eyes turned sadder, a drop of rain fell on his cheek giving an impression that he had been crying.

The young boy regretted speaking up. He was acting like a child.

"I think we should wait for this to be over, accept condolences and then leave. I think it's the right thing to do."

The young boy wanted to slap the butler, of course it was the right thing to do. Why did the butler have to be so patient, so stupidly polite? It was irritating. He nodded numbly and continued to stare blankly at the beautiful caskets. They were glistening in brown and golden colors, drawing all the attention.

The young boy didn't know who had chosen the coffin, who had arranged the funeral or who had invited the guests. The young boy didn't know anything and that terrified him.

For the past week he had tried to be brave but every night he had panic attacks. They didn't last long but they left him emotionally drained, laying on his queen sized bed sweating and wheezing. He never once called the butler, he didn't want to look weak, and he didn't want to feel like a child.

The funeral finished with a prayer. The young boy couldn't remember if his parents had been religious. Lately he had begun to realize just how little he knew about his parents.

The guests started flocking in his direction and he tensed in dreaded anticipation. They hugged him weepily and kissed him leaving their tears on his cheek. They whispered words of comfort and he took it all in fighting the urge to vomit. He looked over to his butler who unlike him, looked completely comfortable and genuine. The young boy almost hated him, almost.

As they drove away, the rain drummed away on the rooftop of the car and the butler finally spoke up.

"Don't worry young master. I think it will be alright."

The young boy didn't respond but he felt his eyes sting and blinked a few times.

They pulled to the mansion and he sat frozen, afraid to leave the car. He didn't believe in ghosts but his home no longer felt safe, it felt dark damp and far too empty.

"Are you coming young master?"

The young boy nodded weakly and timidly got out the car. He shuffled behind the tall butler his eyes stinging again. He rubbed away the pain. He wasn't a child anymore, he was now the man of the house and men didn't cry.

He silently watched as the butler ceremoniously push the beautifully carved wooden doors open. He continued to watch as the butler turned the corner to the kitchen. He remained still, his knees rattling like a newborn calf.

He started heaving. The young boy was having another panic attack. He backed away from the ominous door, the world spinning beneath him.

He wanted to call out to his butler but he was scared. What if the young boy called and the butler didn't come, what if the butler left him like his parents had. He started choking on air and clutched his throat desperately. He fell to the floor and pain rushed from his elbow to his head.

He lay on the wet floor and watched as the clouds created a path for the sun. His vision started to blur and his breath came out in short jagged bursts. He smiled in relief, it wouldn't be too bad if he died. He closed his eyes, he had no one to live for after all.

He felt droplets of rain land on his cheek and forehead.

"Please young master, it's going to be alright, please, open your eyes."

He didn't really want to open his eyes but the droplets kept coming. He opened his eyes slowly and above him, his butler hovered and the butler was crying. Tears flowed freely from his eyes as the butler cradled the boy, begging.

Then the young boy who didn't want to be a child, started to cry. And something that had latched on the young boy's heart broke away and freed him. The young boy let out a loud wail and brought a hand to his face.

It was the first he had cried since his parents had been killed. He felt a wave of pain leave his chest. He didn't know how long he cried, how long his butler cried with him but when he let out a final hiccup, he felt better. The world seemed less terrifying. 

He looked up to his butler who held him tightly. The butler smiled down at the young boy desperately glad that that he had finally cried. He had watched the young boy worriedly as he walked around in a zombie-like trance. He had stayed up in his own bed when he heard the young boy gasp for air in the middle of the night.

And when he had found the young boy lying on the floor, heaving, clutching his heart, a piece of the butler's heart had broken. In that moment, he realized just how much he loved the young boy, how much he didn't want to lose him to despair.

They sat for a while, the butler and the young boy, enjoying the sound of their steady beating hearts. Finally the young boy got up and brushed himself off, then gazed intently at the butler and offered his hand.

"I think...I think I won't ever cry like that again," the young boy said somberly. The butler took the boy's hand and stood next to him without saying anything.

"But I don't want to continue living in a world that is so cruel," the young boy added, his lips pursed. The butler remained quiet, he felt like something momentous was happening. He casually looked down at the young boy, his heart picking up speed.

"So, what do you plan to do about it?" The butler asked carefully.

The young boy cracked a small burdened smile. It was a smile that was realizing the burden of a promise.

"I promise to uphold justice however I can." Then the young boy awkwardly ran his hand through his brown rain soaked hair. He looked up at his butler shyly realizing how silly he sounded.

"I know it sounds silly, like something a naïve three year old would say," he said biting his lip, his cheeks a rosy color.

The butler laughed lightly, stood straight, fixed his suit and gave a node.

"I think it sounds like something a great man would say young master."

The butler didn't look at the young master, he kept his eyes fixed ahead and patiently waited for his young master to enter their home. As the young master walked past him, from the corner of his eyes, the butler saw that he was smiling.

The young master stopped and without turning around he made another promise.

"I promise to always do right by you."

And maybe it was the way the young master was turned, but for the briefest second, the butler saw a man. A tall man with broad enough shoulder to carry the weight of the world.

For a long time after, the butler would wonder what shape the young master's silhouette had cast as the sun set behind them.

Luckily, the butler along with the city would find out, when one night, a shape formed in the sky, a shape that fulfilled two important promises.

It was a bat.


End file.
